


Barbarians

by meerkat2020



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avvar, Asexual Character, Asexual Inquisitor, Avvar, Avvar Culture and Customs, Avvar Inquisitor, Canon-Typical Violence, Chubby Inquisitor, Cullen is in a Powerful Ladies sandwich, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Kidnapping, Love Triangles, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, except not literally bc Lena is ace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6680398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meerkat2020/pseuds/meerkat2020
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which my Inquisitor, Violet Trevelyan, is born into an Avvar hold instead, and rises to glory as Thane. The gods of her hold demand she bring honor to them by marrying the Lowlander Commander--a certain curly-haired ex-Templar. The only problem is, he's engaged to Lena Lavellan, the Inquisitor. The solution seems simple: Cullen should return to Skyhold, and attempt to broker peace talks with the Avvar in the Frostbacks. But leaving seems harder and harder as these heathens who kidnapped him seem less and less barbaric by the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure you’ve interpreted the gods correctly?” Violet asked evenly but with a hint of agitation, leveling a challenging glare at the augur sitting across from her.

The aged augur quirked a thin, pale eyebrow. “Yes. They were quite clear and adamant in their demands: they want this Lowlander. This  _ Commander _ , as his people call him.”

Violet leaned back in her seat, the firelight throwing shadows over her face as she sipped her ale. She let out a breath through her nose, her expression never cracking to show the nervousness and the distaste beneath. She knew what these Lowlanders were like, and she knew that their customs were very different from the Avvar way of life. She knew that they called her people  _ barbarians _ .

“The Lowlanders don’t understand our laws, Wynne,” Violet said to the augur. “They don’t like their people being taken. Besides, they see our gods as little more than demons. Explaining the situation to them will achieve naught.”

The old woman, Wynne, narrowed her blue eyes at him. “Shall I explain the situation to the gods, then, Thane? They know the customs of the Lowlanders.”

Violet heaved a sigh, glancing at the sun setting through the window. “Then I see that we have no choice. To win the gods’ favor, I must take the Commander for myself. I leave at twilight.”

***

Cullen watched as Lena pulled off her mage armor, dumping it in the corner before crawling into bed with him. Cullen pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, reveling in her warmth. He’d wanted this for so long. The Inquisitor, finding shelter and love in his arms. For a long time, she remained alone, without any lover. But now that Corypheus was dead, that they were  _ safe _ , she’d gone to him. She came to him. He’d been content with waiting, keeping his emotions in check as they worked together from across a table covered in maps. But now they were together.

The issue, though, was that Cullen found a surprising lack of...talking. And physical...things. Well, they talked, sure, about reports and soldiers and what the future of the Inquisition looked like. And they kissed and sometimes their hands roamed. But for the most part, Cullen felt like a teenager again, and not in the best way. He felt like they were sneaking around. Did anyone even know he’d stopped sleeping in his dilapidated loft and had started sharing quarters with the Inquisitor?

These thoughts kept him awake long after Lena relaxed and her breathing evened out. He watched her for a while in the darkness, the moonlight highlighting the curve of her cheek. She was beautiful: dark skin dotted with freckles, a mountain of curls haloing her face. Cullen knew she missed her people, the elves, and that she longed to travel with them again. He knew that she liked to cook her own food. He knew she was good at fixing clothes and was rather apt with ice-based spells. He knew she was a fearsome warrior and a generous and kind friend. But he didn’t know her favorite food, or whether or not she liked the outfits hanging in her wardrobe. Sometimes, he felt like he didn’t know much about her, and that she was keeping it that way on purpose. But why?

Cullen sighed and gently extracted himself from Lena. He shifted across the bed and stood up, pulling a shirt on and slipping his feet into boots. He made sure the elf was covered with a soft, warm blanket before he left the room, footsteps light, and closed the door as quietly as possible. The front hall was empty, the only light coming from the braziers and the dying embers in the fireplaces. He headed out through a door onto the battlements, the cool autumn air a shock to the system.

The view was magnificent, even at night. Thousands of stars lit up the night, constellations he’d never taken the time to learn. He leaned against the stone, looking out at the Frostbacks. They seemed too empty and desolate at times like this, even though he knew that there were villages not  _ too _ far away, and wildlife, and Inquisition soldiers out there.

But here, in this secluded area of the battlements, he could be alone with his thoughts. His one reprieve from his duties as commander. Guards rarely patrolled this area. No one would bother him. 

He stiffened when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned slightly and saw Jim strolling along with a careful eye. Cullen nodded at him and the scout nodded back, continuing onward. Cullen sighed in relief, rolling his shoulders as soon as Jim was out of sight. He drummed his fingers against the stone, taking deep breath after deep breath.

Another noise stirred Cullen. “Jim?” he questioned when he saw a shadow approach from the corner of his eye. But...the shadow was slighter than Jim’s build, and shorter. He started to turn as a woman’s arm wrapped around his throat in a chokehold and her other arm wrapped around his middle, pinning his arms to his side. Cullen gasped for air, and felt his attacker’s hand slap over his mouth. He wormed around and bit her hand hard, the taste of blood flooding his mouth and making him gag as the woman cried out. She let go of him, but a second later her fist was flying at him.

Cullen stumbled backwards from the blow, which brought stars to his eyes. His instincts took over and he started running, but the bitch who attacked him was fast and nimble, and she tackled him from behind, slamming Cullen to the stone. He cried out as his head connected with the floor, his vision darkening as the woman pinned him down. He craned his neck to look at her as everything got blurry, but all he saw was a flash of green eyes before things disappeared entirely.

***

Cullen came to with a groan, his head thumping rhythmically. His hand moved of its own accord, lazily feeling his head. Maker’s breath, there was a lump beneath his hair the size of a baby’s fist. What had happened? Had he finally let the Iron Bull convince him to participate in a drinking contest with Blackwall and a few of the other soldiers? No, that didn’t seem quite right…

“Oh, you’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice said in Common as he stirred. He forced his eyes open to see an elderly woman sitting in a crude wooden chair beside him. He himself appeared to be in a large, comfortable bed piled high with furs and blankets. The woman was mixing something in a bowl, and it smelled of elfroot and embrium.  _ Lena smells like elfroot _ .

Beyond the old lady was a young woman with long, dark auburn hair tied into a messy bun. She was murmuring words under her breath as she cut off leaves of elfroot and measured them for the older woman.  _ Mages _ , both of them. She glanced at Cullen briefly, and he saw familiar green eyes looking back at him. He gasped as memories started flooding his already overburdened head. Was this the woman who’d attacked him? But...no. This one was heavier-looking than his attacker.

Cullen started to sit up, and the older woman helped him, shoving pillows behind his back to support him. “My name’s Wynne, young man. I’m sure you have many questions, but--”

Before she could finish her statement, Cullen had grabbed a blunt knife from the bedside table that they’d been using to cut the herbs and grabbed Wynne by her arm, twisting her to her knees on the floor and pressing the knife against her throat.

“Where in the Void did you take me?” Cullen growled at her, making the red-haired girl shriek and leap back. He pressed the blade harder to Wynne’s throat. “Answer me!”

Even though Cullen had been prepared for magical kickback, he wasn’t ready for the blast of magical energy that threw him back against the bed, restraining his limbs. The old woman rose to her feet easily, and with a disdainful look at Cullen, plucked the knife away. She took the bowl and brought it to Cullen’s lips, and he was powerless to do anything as she tipped it down his throat.

“A healing potion, you foolish boy,” Wynne told him imperiously. “That lump on your head should disappear soon. Now, if you’re quite done making a scene, I shall let the thane know you are awake. Persephone, follow me, if you would.”

The other woman followed Wynne out with barely a backwards glance at Cullen. As soon as the door shut, the force restraining him relaxed, and he was able to sit and breathe properly. He looked around the room quickly, surveying his options. The room was rectangular in shape. In the center was the bed, pushed against the back wall between two high windows, too high to be crawled through. There was a beside table on his left, where Wynne had been sitting, but all her instruments were gone. Beyond that was a fireplace on the next wall, crackling merrily. A table stood in the corner with a few chairs around it. There was a wardrobe against the other wall and a copper mirror shined to reflection. And on every wall, tapestries and furs and armor were hung, along with trophies from hunts and battles.

Cullen knew where he was. He was in an Avvar Hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting in my folder for literal agessssss, begging to be published. I haven't finished writing the WHOLE thing yet, but imagine it being under 20 chapters. Hopefully. Short chapters, too--I'm aiming for each one to be right around this chapter's length, 2,000 words-ish, give or take.
> 
> Anyway. So many Avvar AUs have the big and scary Thane Cullen, but I was like. Nah son. I thought Violet would make a better Thane, and it would fit her personality better. Originally, it was supposed to be Thane Cullen/Inquisitor Violet but I just couldn't freaking write it. So. I switched it. Though in the future I'll likely write another Avvar AU with Cullen as the Thane bc damn.
> 
> Un-beta'd, for now. Let me know what you think! For now, it's pretty mild--though it will get smutty in later chapters, so the rating may change. I love comments and kudos!! Also, check out my blog at pansexualanarchist.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Violet.

The door flew open a few minutes later. A woman strolled in, wearing furs that left her muscled stomach and arms bare, exposing the dark blue tattoos and pinkish scars that crisscrossed the skin. Her pale blond hair was cut short, but a braid ran along the right side of her head, tucked behind her ear. Her face was heart-shaped and dotted with freckles. Her nose was crooked, like it had been broken and set badly. And she was shorter than Wynne and the other woman, Persephone. Cullen was taken aback by how  _ young _ she looked--was she truly the thane?

Then her green eyes landed on his, and he  _ knew _ that this was the woman who had attacked him. Had she been alone? Maker, if it got out that he was taken down by a slight woman such as this one, with no weapons...his soldiers would never let him live it down.

The woman stared at him, her gaze making him feel...suddenly inadequate. He wasn’t used to that feeling, not since they’d defeated Corypheus. Still, he didn’t break the gaze, meeting her eyes and staring right back at her with his honey-brown eyes.

“You attacked my augur, I hear?” the woman asked in Common, raising a dark eyebrow. She stopped at the foot of the bed, arms crossed as she looked down upon Cullen. Her stance was cocky, full of youthful confidence.

Cullen snarled as he leapt at the woman, knocking her to the floor, his fists tangled in the fur at her collar. “Bitch, where did you take me?”

The woman grabbed Cullen by the throat with a bandaged hand--the hand he’d bitten when she attacked him on the battlements--and pressed her thumb down, stealing the breath from his throat. She then rolled on top of him easily, trapping his wrists above his head with her hands, her knees pinning his legs down. Cullen gasped and panted, disoriented and in pain. Maybe now was  _ not _ his best chance to make a bid for freedom.

“Still kicking,” the woman remarked, a rakish smirk spreading across her face. Cullen made a disgusted noise and looked away, down, and froze up as he got an eyeful down her shirt. Maker, did Avvar women wear breastbands? He wrenched his gaze back to her face and saw that her smirk had widened to a grin.

“Good. The gods have been restless since you’ve arrived.”

“Arrived?” Cullen repeated in disbelief. “ _ Arrived _ ? That’s what you call kidnapping me? Get off of me!”

To his surprise, the woman actually obeyed him, but she still eyed him carefully. “You are our guest here, Commander of the Lowlanders, and a guest of our gods.”

Cullen scoffed. “ _ Guest _ implies that I am here by choice.” Cullen ignored the woman’s offered hand as he rose to his feet.

The elderly woman, the  _ augur _ , as this  _ thane _ had put it, smiled benignly, if tightly, at Cullen. “Are you hungry, child?”

Cullen ignored the rumbling in his stomach at the mention of food. “No. I’m fine. I don’t want anything from...you, you people. But I demand that you release me immediately and allow me to return to  _ my _ people.”

The thane shook her head with a soft smile and a chuckle. “Not unless the gods will it. I’d hate to bring their wrath upon my tribe.”

Cullen fought the urge to tear his hair out. “I don’t  _ care _ what your gods decree. My people will have noticed my absence by now. They will find out where I’ve disappeared to, and they will bring me back. I don’t want things to come to this, but are you sure you’re ready for war between our peoples?”

The thane narrowed her eyes and advanced on him. Even though she was a head shorter than he, she still managed to seem intimidating. “Is that a threat?”

Cullen squared his shoulders and met her intense gaze. “It’s a fact.”

There was silence as the two faced off, until the thane ran her eyes over Cullen’s body calculatively, which made him suddenly blush. “Wynne,” she called to the elderly woman. “Feed him. Wouldn’t want those muscles to waste away.”

The thane turned away, crossing the room to the door. Before she could leave, Cullen called after her, “What do I call you, Thane?”

The woman paused and glanced back over at Cullen, her eyes glittering. “My name is Violet Dragon-Slayer,” she said after a moment. Cullen watched her leave, the way she moved with confidence and power, an almost animalistic, primal way to her motions. The door shut softly and Cullen turned to this augur, this mage--Wynne.

The elderly lady was by the fireplace, above which hung a black, cast-iron pot. Persephone stood beside her, looking nervously at Cullen. Had she picked up on his Templar training? He wondered if it was still possible for a mage to pick up the remaining traces of lyrium in his body, if there  _ were _ any left.

His mouth started watering as Wynne spooned stew into a clay bowl. His stomach rumbled, betraying him. He bit his lip and turned away. He didn’t want anything from these people. He didn’t want to be in their debt.

“Eat, child,” Wynne said as she came closer to him, holding the bowl out. Cullen set his jaw and stared resolutely back. “It’s not poison,” Wynne assured him, taking a sip for herself to show Cullen what she meant. “You must keep up your strength. You’ll not recover if you starve yourself. How will you escape then?”

A chuckle escaped Cullen’s mouth at that. “What do I call you? Augur? My Lady?”

“Just Wynne is fine,” the woman said, leading Cullen to a small table in the corner of the hut. She pulled a chair out for him. “You are Thane Dragon-Slayer’s guest, therefore my superior.” She sat beside Cullen, her eyes kind. “I understand that you must be...distressed, Commander of the Lowlanders. But know that we mean you no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Cullen snorted as he lifted the bowl to her lips, taking a tentative sip. It was scalding, but  _ good _ . He took another sip. “Do Avvar not know what  _ messengers _ are? We could have met peacefully to discuss...whatever it is you wished you discuss.”

Wynne frowned. “I...see that you are unfamiliar with our customs. The gods...well, it’s not my place to explain. The thane shall tell you all, soon enough. When you’re ready.”

Cullen made an exasperated noise. “This is ridiculous. Why would she risk the ire of my people by kidnapping me?”

“Because in our culture, Lowlander, it means...something else.” Cullen got the sense that this was another thing Wynne would let Violet explain. “We understand the Lowlanders do not steal people, but the gods of the hold decreed it. We do not disobey the wills of our gods.”

“Who are your gods?” Cullen asked, frowning. “Like the elven gods?”

Wynne chuckled softly. “No. Their gods have abandoned them. They are deities locked away, uninvolved in their lives. Our gods interact with us constantly. The augur forms a connection with them and interprets their thoughts and wills.”

Cullen felt a trickle of fear snake down his spine. “Oh? Is that so?”

Wynne nodded. “Your people call them spirits of the Fade.”

Cullen swallowed thickly. “Spirits? And you communicate with them freely? Do their will? Without fear of possession?”

“Why should I be afraid?” Wynne asked, cocking her head to the side. “They are here to help us. We are not like your Lowlander mages, who live in constant fear of their powers.”

“I...see,” Cullen replied, returning to the stew and gulping it. “Very well. Then where are we?”

Wynne eyed him suspiciously. “Dragonsblood Hold,” she responded. “The land was soaked with the blood of dragons long, long ago, during a terrible battle, which has fertilised the land like nothing else.”

“And I’ve been here...how long?” Cullen asked, glancing at the sunlight streaming in through the high windows.

“Two days.”

“So we’re still in the Frostbacks?” Cullen pressed.

“I suppose you could make that assumption,” Wynne said, nodding.

“When can I leave?”

“When the gods say so.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Right. The  _ gods _ . The arbitrary and dangerous spirits from the Fade.”

Wynne looked offended. With a huff, she rose to her feet. “Well, I don’t see why my presence is needed here. I shall take me leave, then.” Without another word, she rose and left the room with Persephone, her furs swishing around her. Cullen groaned. And he was alone, again, in an enchanted house that prevented his escape, no doubt. He would take the same precautions.

Surely, the Inquisition must’ve noticed his absence? He nodded to himself. Of course they had. Lena would’ve noticed him not returning to bed that night. In which case, she’d tell the advisors, and they’d go searching throughout Skyhold for him...and when they didn’t find him and no one knew where he’d gone, they’d know he had been taken. Cullen wouldn’t have just  _ left _ .

Cullen huffed. The Frostbacks were a large area to search. Plus, the Inquisitor had no idea he’d been taken by Avvar in those very mountains--he could be miles away now. His rescue might not be so speedy.

He filled his bowl again with soup, clumsily spilling some over his hands. He hissed in pain and went back to the bed, curling up with the bowl and cursing the hold and their “gods.” He would get out of here, no matter what they said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Avvar names are kinda complicated for me to get my head around, but I think I got it? So, Violet's legend-mark name is Dragon-Slayer (because she killed a dragon, obviously, bc in my playthrough with her, I had a goal of killing every dragon available in Thedas. It was fun). Her regular name would be Violet An Alina O Dragonsblood Hold, I think.
> 
> Anyway. Hope you enjoyed! I'll try to update Saturday night. I love kudos/comments very dearly, and I love to talk to y'all! My tumblr is [pansexualanarchist](http://pansexualanarchist.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also, just a side note if I didn't mention this before, I will change the rating soon, and it will probably get to Explicit sooner or later, but I'll mark NSFW chapters before hand with a big ol' warning. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Violet did not return to the hut until late the next morning. Wynne had popped in a few times with Persephone, who seemed distrustful of Cullen at the best, outright hateful at the worst. After a good night’s sleep with food in his belly and elfroot potions in his blood, he felt better. The bump on his head had disappeared, too. He woke early with the sunrise and sat awake, formulating a plan for getting out of this hold.

When the thane strolled in a quarter to noon, Cullen was freshly washed and wearing clean Lowlander clothing provided by Wynne. Violet eyed him carefully before holding out the plate she was carrying in her hands: assorted fruits and vegetables with a few slices of roasted venison and a chunk of bread. She set it on the table in the corner of the hut and leaned against it, watching Cullen as he approached her warily. She nodded to a chair at the table and he sat. The tension in the room was palpable.

“You seem much calmer,” Violet noted, sitting opposite him. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” he replied, tentatively eating a strawberry.

Violet cleared her throat, seeming a bit...nervous. “This is Dragonsblood Hold. My Hold. Which Wynne’s probably already told you. It’s...seen better times, I’ll admit, which you’ll no doubt notice sooner or later. The hunt has been awful because of a Great Bear prowling the forest--a mama bear, from what my hunters say. She’s killed six of my best hunters this season. Not to mention disease has ravaged the Hold, killing the elderly, the young, the weak.”

Cullen wasn’t sure why this woman was telling him this. He watched as she shifted in her seat, and he took this opportunity to study her. She was shorter than he expected of anybody in any sort of position of power. But she was still powerfully built. She was stocky, but her arms rippled with muscle when she moved, the swirling blue tattoos shifting with her movements. Her face was soft, still clinging to the last vestiges of youth around her cheeks. Her eyes were always moving, as were her hands. The previously bandaged hand was now bare, and Cullen could see bite marks along her palm and the back of her hand. He blushed at that, remembering how he’d bitten his attacker’s hand back in Skyhold. How he’d bitten Violet. His eyes moved to her fingers, long and boney, the knuckles bruised.

“I...were you listening, Lowlander?” Violet asked, a brow raised and a quirk to her sweet lips. “You seem distracted.”

Cullen looked from her hands to her face, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Sorry, I, er--what was that?”

A quiet laugh escaped Violet’s lips. She grabbed a blackberry from his plate and popped it in her mouth. “I asked you a question. Do you know much of the Avvar?”

Cullen shook his head, tracing the outline of Violet’s profile with his eyes. She held herself in an almost aristocratic way, the way Winona Amell did, despite knowing naught but the Circle her whole life. How did a barbarian manage to look noble?

“I only know that your people apparently have no qualms with kidnapping,” Cullen quipped, leaning back.

Violet frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “No, that’s not--that’s not true, Lowlander. You just don’t understand. We--we steal people whom we--well, I mean, it’s customary to announce your intentions first, but this was a special situation, and your people wouldn’t have understood, but--ugh!” She took a deep breath and let it out, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Why is this so hard to explain to a Lowlander?”

“I don’t think I followed a word of that, Thane Dragon-Slayer,” Cullen remarked.

Violet shook her head, then stood up. She looked at Cullen expectantly. “I--you’ve been showing good behavior, Lowlander. Would you like to leave the hut for a while?”

Cullen raised a blond eyebrow. “With supervision, I assume?”

A smirk curled her lips. “Of course. So, what’s your answer, Lowlander?”

Cullen stood up, much taller than Violet, but she didn’t seem intimidated by him. “I’d...like that.”

Violet nodded and led him to the door, opening it. He blinked in the bright sunlight and followed her outside. The air held a slight chill, but the sun was warm on his skin. It was such a relief after being cooped up in the stuffy hut. Violet gave him one stern warning before leading him on a tour. “If you try to disrupt the peace in my hold, Lowlander, I will slit your throat, your Inquisition be damned.”

Then she brightened up, gesturing for him to follow her. He looked around. The hold was concealed cleverly in the shadow of a mountain, in a large clearing amongst the snow-sprinkled trees. Around the hut Cullen had been in were a cluster of dozens of smaller huts, children running about in the yards. There were small farms and a large open area clear of any trees or stumps.

“That’s the arena,” Violet pointed out. “Where we settle disputes, or have festivals and feasts. Oh, and there’s the kitchens, and the infirmary over here.”

They headed to a small building that had an aura of death surrounding it. Outside it was a little boy picking buttercups; he couldn’t have been older than Cullen’s nephew, maybe five or six. His skin was dark and he had a mop of dark hair. He was thin-limbed and rather scrawny. “Hello, Mikhael,” Violet called to him with a cheerful wave.

The boy turned at Violet’s arrival, a huge smile splitting his face. Cullen drew back slightly in revulsion, lip curled. The child’s mouth was disfigured and twisted on one side, revealing his teeth and gums, the skin around it puckered and scarred. Cullen’s reaction did not go unnoticed, and the boy’s smile disappeared as he shrunk away from the newcomer, tears filling his blue eyes. Cullen immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

Violet tossed a glare at Cullen as she bent down to scoop up Mikhael. The boy pressed his face into Violet’s shoulder, not looking at Cullen. Violet spoke quietly to him in an unfamiliar tongue. Cullen caught his name once or twice as he watched her full lips move with the guttural language. Mikhael glanced with blue eyes at Cullen, then away, clinging to Violet. She gave him a little pinch on the arm and jerked her head at Cullen.

“ _ Haigh _ ,” said the little boy, voice muffled by Violet’s furs. Then Violet set him down and pulled something out of her pocket, making the boy squeal with delight as his eyes brightened.

“ _ Candy mil _ ,” Violet said. “Now go inside. Give those flowers to Aelis. She’ll think they’re lovely.”

The boy nodded and popped the small caramel candy into his mouth, picking a few more of the wildflowers for good measure before darting inside, humming an off-key tune. Violet turned from the sickhouse to Cullen, a frown between her eyebrows.

“He’s a sweet boy,” Violet murmured. “His parents died last winter. He’s been staying with Aelis, one of our healers, ever since. She raises him as her own since she is infertile and has no children of her own. Most of the orphans stay with her in her hut, but we all pitch in to raise them.”

Cullen felt the need to defend himself. “I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to stare, I was just...taken by surprise.”

Violet sighed. “It is too often that we forget that any one of us could have been born like Mikhael, or that we could have lost our parents at a young age. He is not a parable to be pitied and to teach us to be happy with what we have. But he is just as much an Avvar as anyone else born in this hold. If I had been born like he, I would want the people to treat me equally.”

Cullen nodded but was silent. Violet sighed and led him onwards, past the infirmary. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “many have fallen ill from the summer fever, and those who still ail from it are keeping Aelis very busy. Many died. Most have recovered. It’s hurt the tribe greatly.”

“Do you think they’ll survive the winter?”

Violet’s lips flattened into a hard line, her face emotionless. “I can only hope. Wynne has been begging the gods for guidance and help, but they have been reluctant to answer, which is troubling. Until they spoke of you.”

Cullen’s brows lifted. “Me?”

“Yes, you. They said that you would be able to bring peace and prosperity to Dragonsblood Hold if I...that is, we’d...I don’t know if you’ll react well to this, and I’ve greatly been enjoying your calm demeanor...”

Cullen swallowed. “It...it doesn’t involve human sacrifice, does it?”

Violet burst out laughing, her smile wide and genuine and unbridled. Her left cheek dimpled and her green eyes sparkled. “No, Lowlander, we don’t practice that. Well, not for many years. Anyway, it, er, requires a marriage. Well, specifically, consummating the marriage. Both the marriage and the consummating. Both of those, done. By two people. Together. I’m stammering.”

Violet promptly shut her mouth. There were a few beats of silence as they walked together, villagers approaching Violet with their worries, their greeting, small gifts or just idle chatter. She interacted with each person like they were an old friend, her smile never dimming. Maker, that was a glorious smile.

“ _ Whose _ marriage, exactly?” Cullen asked, an edge to his voice as a hunter approached. Violet gestured for Cullen to wait while she conferred in low tones with the hunter, speaking the Avvar tongue.

“You don’t have a full group,” Violet said tersely in Common. “I won’t allow it.”

“Thane, with all due respect,” the hunter growled, towering over Violet, “if we do not try to hunt, then we will  _ starve _ . Who do you think will die first? The young and the ill.”

Violet took a step back, a hurt look flashing over her face. She must’ve been thinking of Mikhael. “Very well. But I will accompany you, Master of the Hunt.” She turned to Cullen. “Lowlander, I’ll escort you back to the hut. If Wynne has time, then she might finish this little tour.”

“I--Thane,” he interrupted, lowering his head. “If I may join your hunt. I have experiencing tracking. Apostates, actually, but the methods are similar. And I know the land. I may be of use.”

Violet deliberated for a few moments, exchanging quick Avvar words with the hunter. Then he felt her fingers on his chin, raising his head. “Do not lower your head for me. You are too proud of a creature for that.”

Cullen found himself staring even after her touch was gone. She turned away from him and gestured toward the hunter. “Cullen, this is our Master of the Hunt, Finley. Finley, this is Cullen, honored guest of our gods.”

Finely was an older man, grisled and scarred. He had a dark beard patchy with silver and dark, determined eyes. Finley bowed his head slightly, speaking an Avvar phrase. Violet’s lip quirked in a smile. “He doesn’t speak our language, Finley.”

“Apologies,” Finley said, sharing a smile with Violet. He turned to Cullen. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“I--likewise,” he replied with a curt nod.

“Finley, we’ll need armor for Cullen,” she instructed. Finley nodded, but Cullen stopped them.

“I’d rather not,” he said slowly. “What I’m wearing now is fine.”

Violet raised a brow. “Wearing our garb will not make you one of us. You have nothing to fear. But if we run into that Great Bear, you may be glad for something between you and her claws.”

Cullen still seemed unconvinced, but he acquiesced. “I...very well. But I’d prefer ‘Lowlander’ armor, if you have any. I’m more comfortable with it.

Violet nodded. “We should have Lowlander leathers somewhere. Finley? Would you?”

The Master of the Hunt nodded and headed off toward a building they had not reached yet on their tour. “Our armory,” Violet pointed out. “I shall not be arming you, though, Lowlander.”

“I understand,” Cullen said. “But it’ll feel good to be working. I’ve been idle too long.”

“A worker?” she mused. “Maybe we can put you to work here, if you prove useful on this little expedition.”

A smirk curled Cullen’s lips. “I shudder to think where you might put me to work here.”

“Oh, a handsome, strapping man like yourself? I can think of a few places.”

At her words, Cullen’s cheeks turned scarlet. Violet’s brain seemed to catch up with her mouth and her cheeks started to redden as well, and she looked away quickly, trying to hide her smirk. She cleared her throat and started off toward the wilderness’s edge, her steps light and quick. Cullen followed without question, his mind wandering.

Finley and a small group of other hunters met them by the outskirts, carrying a stack of leather armor. He handed these off to Cullen, who strapped them on over his tunic and breeches. He could’ve sworn that they all sized him up as he maneuvered the armor, his hand landing by his hip automatically. But there was no sword there now for him to grip for comfort.

“Shall we?” Violet prompted the Hunt Master. Cullen didn’t miss how the older man’s gray eyes softened as he gazed at Violet.

“Of course,” he replied. “We’ll be splitting into two smaller groups, teams, if you will. From what I’ve gathered, that mother bear in the forest should be hunting on the other side of the river, so we should be able to move around without worry. There are wolves to worry about, but I think we can handle them. Our goal today is a stag for each team.

“The groups will be as follows,” Finley continued. “Myself, Grania, and Comgal. And then our thane, the Lowlander, and Murtagh. Watch yourselves. No unnecessary risks--we’ve lost enough men as it is. Korth guide you.”

The six people split into two groups as they entered the forest, heading east and west respectively. Violet had two daggers in her hands, and her footsteps were light, nearly nonexistent as they left no track. The other man with them, Murtagh, who looked like a younger version of the Hunt Master, had a bow in hand, a full quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Cullen felt antsy without any sort of weapon. Vulnerable.

They walked silently for a while. Occasionally, one of the three would point out deer droppings or hoofprints to follow. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried through the underbrush. Bird squawked and flapped overhead. Cullen noticed a clearing of wild flowers along their route, and habit had him stooping to pick a few blooms.

Violet turned back to watch him. “We haven’t the time for flower-picking, Lowlander,” she said in exasperation, quirking a dark eyebrow.

Cullen suddenly felt stupid. He’d done things like this for Lena all the time, and she’d thought they were sweet gestures. Her face would light up as she’d accept his bouquet and they’d walk hand in hand for a while. But he wasn’t with his lover anymore. He was with the Avvar.

“They--they’re violets, Thane,” he mumbled, holding out the cluster of blue flowers he’d picked. He heard Murtagh scoff, and his cheeks burned. He watched Violet carefully for her reaction, praying that she’d dismiss him and they could continue on and Cullen could pine for Lena, but also secretly hoping that she’d take them.

“They’re lovely,” Violet said in a quiet voice, accepting them from Cullen. She inhaled their light fragrance, a small, secret smile on her face. A smile that Cullen found himself wanting to trace with his fingers. “I...don’t have anywhere to keep them where they won’t get crushed, though, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Cullen told her hurriedly, still feeling embarrassed.

Violet placed the bundle of blooms back on the ground, but kept one. She tucked the stem snugly behind her ear, the violet peeking out from her pale hair. She looked up at Cullen again and a slow smile graced her face. He felt breathless just looking at her. Then Murtagh cleared his throat.

“Unless those flowers will feed the entire Hold, I think we should continue with our task.”

Violet jumped slightly and cleared her throat. “Right. Of course. Shall we?”

After a while, Cullen started to recognize the area. He’d come here before, with a small party of soldiers. They’d been on a mission, and they’d stopped here for the night before making the six hour trek back to Skyhold. He tried to muffle the gasp he sucked in. They were less than a day’s ride from Skyhold. His home. More than likely, there were soldiers stationed nearby--especially since he’d gone missing.

“Everything okay, Lowlander?” Violet asked carefully, green eyes glittering in the dappled sunlight.

Cullen bit his lip before speaking. “I...need to relieve myself. I’ll only be a moment?”

Violet quirked a brow. “Go ahead, I promise I won’t look.”

“I’d rather not do so in front of a lady,” Cullen explained, wondering if such a title could even be applied to such barbarians. Barbarians who apparently didn’t wear breastbands, his memory reminded him, unbidden.

Violet chuckled as Murtagh snorted. “Fine. Don’t go too far. I’d hate to have to steal you again. You did put up  _ quite _ the fight.”

Cullen tried not to blush as he headed off further into the forest, following the sound of water. He knew there was a nearby creek in these woods, and the Inquisition soldiers would have to be nearby. He whistled as he walked, trying not to seem at all suspicious.

Once he was sure that they could no longer see him, Cullen started running as quietly as he could through the underbrush, trying to remember where he had camped all that time ago. He found a beaten trail leading from the small creek and followed it, his heart leaping when he heard the quiet conversation of what he prayed to Andraste were Inquisition scouts.

He paused on the precipice of a short decline, crouching to watch the three soldiers sitting in the small camp. They were eating, laughing, and chatting with each other, not paying very much attention to their surroundings.

He started down toward them, and they glanced up in surprise, hands flying to their swords only to pause when they say the commander. “C-Commander Cullen!” one of them squeaked, straightening up into a salute, dropping his bowl of stew. “Thank the Maker! Patrols have been sent around the Frostbacks looking for you.”

Cullen nodded authoritatively. “Good. Now--”

“Oi!” a voice called from the precipice Cullen had just descended from. The four of them glanced up to see Violet and Murtagh there, weapons drawn, a thunderous look on Violet’s face. The Inquisition soldiers drew their weapons. Cullen wondered who would win this fight.

“Get back, Commander,” one of the soldiers said, noting his lack of weapon. He obliged, avoiding Violet’s eye.

Violet slid down the precipice just as a roar ripped through the air. Everyone turned to see a  _ massive _ great bear loping toward them, its pink maw visible as it voiced its ire. Violet stumbled backwards, and for the first time, there was fear in her eyes.

“Murtagh! It’s her!” Violet cried, spinning her dagger as the bear lunged at one of the Inquisition soldiers. The soldier swiped with his sword, but it was ineffective as he was bowled over, claws digging into his chest. The beast roared again, snapping at Cullen. He snatched up the fallen soldier’s sword and jerked away. Murtagh rained arrows down, but they had little effect against the beast’s rage. The she-bear batted aside another soldier, knocking him down easily. Violet took the moment to run at it and leap atop the bear, driving both her daggers into its back as it reared, nearly throwing her off. She clung to her daggers as blood spurted over her hands. When the bear fell back to its feet, she twisted, then withdrew her dagger before thrusting them back in with another twist.

The bear bucked wildly, throwing itself into a thick pine tree to shake Violet. She cried out as her hands slipped and she lost her grip, slamming into the tree with a grunt. The bear roared in her face and Cullen sprinted forward with the last standing Inquisition soldier, and he swung the sword at the bear’s head, slicing through its jaw and throat, its roar turning to a pathetic gurgle as it collapsed slowly, its life pouring out. It finally stopped moving, and Cullen stood there, panting from the exertion.

Murtagh raced down the precipice to help Violet to her feet. She blinked, dazed, but waved off the man. “I’m fine,” she insisted, straightening her armor and cleaning her daggers. Cullen watched as she tore the violet from her hair and tossed it to the ground without a thought, something in his gut twisting at the sight.

“Your fucking Inquisition drew the attention of this she-bear,” Violet told him acridly. “She’s been terrorizing my hunters for weeks now. Now come, we must get these men back to the hold before they bleed out.”

The remaining Inquisition soldier looked to Cullen for guidance. Cullen nodded to her. “As you wish, Thane.” Carefully, Cullen and Violet lifted the more badly injured soldier, who whimpered dazedly as he was moved. Murtagh and the soldier, whose name Cullen placed as Archson, picked up the other one, and together they moved slowly through the forest.

“Violet--” Cullen began after a few moments of silence.

“Do not talk to me, Lowlander,” she snapped. “I do not have the patience to deal with you right now.”

He sighed despondently, watching Violet as they approached the hold. The other hunting party was already back, nervously awaiting their thane. When they saw Violet, they cheered, but the celebration was short-held when they saw the two injured lowlanders with them.

“Get Wynne and Persephone!” Violet barked. “Have them meet me in my hut immediately!”

They headed to Violet’s large, spacious hut, which was separated into several different rooms, unlike most of the huts, which had three separations at most. They placed one of the soldiers on her bed, the other on the table. Moments passed before the door flew open again and Wynne was sweeping into the room, Persephone in tow.

“Move aside,” the old mage commanded, and no one dared defy her. Not only was she the augur, but she was the best healer the hold had seen in generations. She set down a bag full of supplies as she knelt by the more grievously injured one, the one on the bed. His face was pale and waxy with sweat. His breathing was shallow and quick, and he shivered and shook.

Wynne set to removing his garments, tutting as she did so. “Oh, my. He’s lost a lot of blood. Persephone, boil up a pot of water--you,” she directed, pointing at Archson, “tear up what cloth isn’t too soiled with this poor boy’s blood. His tunic is not salvageable. I pray the gods will help me heal him.”

Archson nodded and set to work tearing the tunic into strips, her eyes darting around nervously as she did so. Persephone headed over to the fireplace in the wall and used a spell to start a fire in the hearth. Then she filled the cast iron pot with ice and melted it with a quick spell. She also filled a small bowl with cool water, and used a rag to wipe off the soldier’s face.

“What’s his name?” Violet asked softly, watching the soldier worriedly.

“Philip,” Cullen told her. “Philip Gibson.”

“Persephone,” Wynne said. “Tend to the other soldier and report back to me on his wounds.”

“Yes, augur,” Persephone said, heading to the soldier on the table.

“Everyone else, leave,” Wynne commanded. “You, too, Thane.”

Violet frowned. “As you wish. Though send for me when they are in stable condition. Good luck.”

She left the hut then with Cullen and Murtagh beside her, Archson watching them leave with fear in her eyes. Cullen nodded to her reassuringly. She would not come to harm with the Avvar. Unless she provoked them. Which he prayed she wouldn’t.

“Violet,” Cullen tried again, reaching for her.

She spun about, stopping short, Cullen almost walking into her. “What, Lowlander? I hope you know that their blood is on your hands.”

Her rancor shocked Cullen. He took a step back, very unsure of himself. “I wanted to apologize,” he admitted sheepishly.

Violet sighed, rolling her eyes. “For what? Making another escape attempt? I would, too, in your place. Anyone would. But…” She paused and licked her lips, looking away. “Whatever trust you may have thought was forming between us today--it’s gone. Gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he started again.

“So am I. Go back to the hut. There will be a feast in your honor for killing the Great Bear, likely tomorrow night. I’ll fetch you when it’s time. Goodbye.” And with that terse farewell, Violet was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of based the language and names off of the general Irish/Gaelic/Scottish language and names. Thank you google translate.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I spent a lot of time writing the ending but still feel a little mehhh about it. Whatever.


	4. Chapter 4

Cullen saw Wynne a few hours later, smelling of incense and the sharp tang of magic. He approached her quickly, biting down his nervousness. “Augur,” he greeted. She nodded back at him, a thin, white eyebrow quirked up at him. “Er--do you know where the thane is?”

“Why, she’s in her hut, Lowlander,” Wynne replied archly. “Watching over the wounded men. I’ve shown the other soldier to your hut, for the time being. She seemed very nervous, poor thing.”

Cullen nodded. He worried about how Archson would take this. He’d talk to her after smoothing things over with Violet--because he  _ had _ to smooth things over with Violet. As much as he wanted to return to Skyhold, he didn’t want to leave her.

This realization stopped him in his tracks, and his mind wandered to Lena. What would she think? Would she hate him? Of course she would--as unfulfilling as their relationship was, it was still a relationship, a promise. He shook the thoughts from his mind and steeled himself before pushing open the door to the thane’s hut.

Inside, Violet sat beside the one whom Wynne had attended to first. The other one was resting in a fur-lined cot now, and was not in any sort of immediate danger or intense pain, so Violet focused on the more injured one. Cullen watched her running her fingers through his hair soothingly, singing a soft song under her breath, the words foreign to him.

After a moment, Cullen cleared his throat. Violet looked up at him and her eyes hardened. He took a hesitant step forward, watching Violet like she was an unpredictable, feral animal. “Thane,” he greeted.

“What do you need, Lowlander?” she asked in a cool voice.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Cullen stated.

“I do not want anymore apologies,” Violet said harshly. “They mean nothing.”

“Do you usually watch after the sick?” Cullen asked, sitting beside her tentatively.

Violet eyed him for a moment, then shook her head. “No. But before I was Thane, my sister would practice her healing magics, and I would sit with the wounded and sing to them. Not everyone has a mother to tend to them such a way.”

Her eyes slid to the soldier she was soothing. “He’s quite young, isn’t he? Brash and eager to show his worth, to show his mettle. Foolish. He will die. His wounds are too severe and the infection is difficult to draw out.”

Cullen watched the patterns Violet traced on his skin, her simple statement shocking him. “He joined the Inquisition when he was seventeen--he ran away from home to join our forces. He lied, too, about his age and where he was from. He was a good recruit, if sloppy--we found out about his fibs soon enough. He was determined to stay and do good. Leliana--our spymaster--put him on latrine duty for a month, and he was...unhappy with it, but, once again, determined to stay. After the month, I overrode Leliana’s decision and signed him back on to recruit. Our latrines had never been cleaner, I’ll be honest.”

Violet listened without comment, but she looked confused. If something was truly bothering her, however, she did not say so.

“Do you have family, Thane?” Cullen asked, switching subjects. “Other than Persephone?”

Violet sighed sadly. “Once, I did. A large one, too.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” he prompted gently. “I quite understand if you’d rather not.”

Violet looked up to him with harsh, searching eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Because--” Cullen stopped himself. He very nearly said that he cared about her. And while that was true to a certain extent, he wasn’t sure it was something she wanted to hear. “Is it so bad to get to know my host?”

Violet narrowed her eyes. “Speak your mind, Lowlander.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...er...you’re an amazing woman, Thane, and you’re a magnificent fighter and I am terribly sorry for betraying your trust--wholly and truly. I would like to try to mend things, if you find it amenable?”

Violet glowered at him, but she softened fractionally. “We have no room here for people who flip and flop. But I understand you lowlanders are quite enamored with your games, so I will indulge you.

“My father died ten years ago when my sister came into her powers. He wasn’t the thane, nor was my mother. My mother fell ill during her pregnancy after his death. She and the babe both died. My oldest sister, Melody, was stolen by another clan to marry one of their warriors. It was a very well executed stealing, to be honest. He was in and out of the camp without anyone being any the wiser until almost evening the next day.”

“Stealing?” Cullen prompted. “Meaning…? He kidnapped her? Then  _ married _ her?”

Violet blushed suddenly. “Aye, as is our way. A man kidnaps his intended bride. If he’s caught, he’s beaten but given a second chance. If caught again...well, that’s no fun. But he can prove his stealth and strength and cunning through this, do you see?”

Cullen’s mind was working. “Didn’t...you said you ‘stole’ me, didn’t you?”

Violet’s blush spread to her ears. She bit her lower lip. “Aye. That is correct.”

“However, I am a man and you are a woman,” Cullen said, feeling ridiculous for stating the obvious. “As in...does it work the other way around?”

“It is...unusual,” Violet admitted. “But the gods decreed it, so I did so.”

Cullen barked out a laugh, startling Violet, who did not seem to find the humor in this “So...you kidnapped me to  _ marry _ me?”

Her blush deepened, and Violet felt sure that all the blood in her body was centralized to her face right now. “You’re taking this awfully well, aren’t you, Ser Lowlander?”

Cullen huffed, his smile disappearing slowly. “It’s rather humorous, is all. But...Thane--”

“Violet.”

He smiled endearingly at her, glad that she wanted to be on first name bases again. “Then you must stop calling me ‘lowlander’, Violet.”

“Very well. You were saying?”

His face turned into a mask of seriousness once more. “Violet, you are aware that I...am in a committed relationship with another woman. The Inquisitor.”

Violet sighed. “I am aware. I asked the gods if they were sure I should truly take you when you were sworn to another, but they insisted. I had no choice in the matter. Is she why you wish to return so earnestly?”

Cullen thought for a moment. “I…”

“If you have to think that long about it, then I believe the answer is clear,” Violet intoned, meeting his eyes.

Cullen cleared his throat as it was his turn to blush. “I...you’re wrong. But, please, can we talk of something else?”

“As you wish,” Violet agreed. “Your family?”

Cullen smiled at that. His family always made him smile. “I...am afraid that my parents shared similar fates to yours. They perished in the Blight. My siblings, however, continue to live. I...actually have not seen them in what must be too long. My oldest sister, Mia, is a mama bear, truly.” He laughed at the look on Violet’s face. “That bear we faced today?  _ Nothing _ compared to Mia when someone messes with her family.”

“She sounds like a good woman,” Violet commented.

“She is,” Cullen agreed. “When I first joined the Templars, I was stationed at Ferelden’s Circle--that was the last I saw her and my brother and other sister. Then I was restationed to Kirkwall, and I lost contact. I was there for ten years, and it took nearly all that time for her to locate me. I still feel awful about it. Then I joined the Inquisition, and I couldn’t write, with everything else I had to do--but she found me again, eventually.”

Violet smiled slowly at him. “My. You’re well-travelled aren’t you, Ser Templar?”

Cullen laughed. “What did I say about names, Lady Thane?”

“Continue,” Violet instructed. “Cullen.”

He swallowed, suddenly aroused by the way she said his name. Maker, now was  _ not _ the time. He cleared his throat, crossing his legs carefully, and started talking again. “Then there’s me, then my little brother Bran--he’s a feisty one. He always got in fights when we were kids. And as he got older, he got into less fights and more tumbles.”

“Tumbles?” Violet interrupted. “I am not familiar with the lowlander term?”

Cullen coughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “As in, when a man and a woman...tumble.”

“Ah,” Violet said, comprehension dawning, her lips quirking with a smirk. “ _ Another _ euphemism? What is with you lowlanders and avoiding saying ‘sex’?”

“It’s crass!” Cullen said defensively.

“It’s also how you came into this world!” Violet countered, making Cullen splutter. “It’s a thing of commitment and love, Cullen. Sometimes just of lust. But it’s meant to bring two people who desire each other together--and, if the gods bless them, then it brings them closer by giving them a child to care for together. It’s a beautiful thing, Cullen. Something one should not be ashamed of  _ saying _ .”

Cullen found his eyes looking anywhere but at Violet. After talking about her stealing him earlier, and now  _ this _ , he was thinking about her in ways he shouldn’t be. He had Lena, waiting for him at Skyhold, likely combing the mountainside to find him. She was his commitment. He loved her--he couldn’t even consider starting a relationship with another woman, bizarre customs be damned.

“Cullen?” Violet prompted, a wrinkle between her brows. “Have I...disturbed you? Do you not enjoy sex? It’s not uncommon--”

“No, no, I enjoy it,” Cullen defended too hastily, making Violet grin devilishly. “I mean--I understand what you mean, but in the lowlands, we don’t talk about it so casually.”

“But...your lowlands have brothels  _ everywhere _ , do they not?” Violet asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “Aren’t your people obsessed with sex?”

Cullen flushed. “When you put it like that...Yes. But...maybe it’s because of that, we feel guilty and brush it under the rug.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” Violet insisted, sitting closer to him. “Sex is a good thing. At least, that’s how we Avvar see it. Hopefully, you’ll be able to understand it more fully, if you stay here a while longer.”

Cullen nearly started choking. “I--Violet, I’m not sure that--”

“Oh!” she squeaked, covering her mouth and the surprised grin there. “I didn’t mean--oh, Korth, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, Cullen.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’m not offended, Violet.”

“Then do you want to?” she asked, sounding a bit too eager. She seemed to realize this and dropped her gaze, biting her lip. Her cheeks were scarlet, but she was fighting a smile.

Cullen’s face was on fire. “When was the last time you had a partner, Violet?” he asked, avoiding answering her question for the time being.

“Not since I was made Thane,” she told him. “Two years ago. Casual dalliances aren’t something a leader should indulge in, not when they should be focusing on their people.”

“You’re right,” Cullen told her. “But...as for us...I’ll need some time to think on it. I have many things to consider.”

“Of course,” Violet said, rising to her feet as he did. “I...you should talk to your soldier. Archson. She seems distressed. She is in your hut.”

Cullen nodded as Violet walked him to the door. Maker, how did they go from down to up to down again and then back up? She was an anomaly to him, a wonder. And he desired her, he wouldn’t deny it. He wanted her--but more than that, he wanted to be with her. To be by her side.

He left, feeling a pit monster open its maw in his gut. How did a commander of an army of the Inquisition, and the lover of the Inquisitor, fall in love with an Avvar warrior queen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is basically just self-gratification I'm not even going to lie to myself anymore. I mean it may not seem like much now but I've already written the smut and I just don't care anymore if it's dumb, I like it. If y'all enjoy it in the meantime then that's great too.
> 
> I'm not sure how my update schedule will be over the next few weeks bc I'm stressed as heck bc I'm graduating and I have to write a speech and I am Not Prepared At All. So even though writing helps me de-stress, I so cannot reread and edit it. And it's shit anyway so. Whatever. Hopefully I'll be able to get the brain ball rolling sooner rather than later. Come on brain, think of things.
> 
> So, un-beta'd still, I love kudos and comments, my tumblr is pansexualanarchist.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SUCH A BAD PERSON I'm sorry for not updating for, like. Almost two months. I am so sorry, but school and and graduation and LIFE in general.  
> But here it is! Also, I've thought about it a lot, so I'm changing up the plot a bit. I may go back and make some edits to accommodate that. Hopefully, I'll be back to weekly updates!

Cullen did his best to reassure Archson that they were safe. “I’m the thane’s guest,” he told her. “She won’t let any harm come to any of us. The other soldiers are healing well--Gibson and Maddock.”

“Will they let us leave?” Archson asked, her voice quivering. “I’ve never heard what Avvar do to prisoners--because they don’t  _ take _ any.”

“We are  _ not _ prisoners,” Cullen insisted sternly.

“Then why did you have to try and escape?” Archson challenged, crossing her arms.

Cullen sighed harshly, thinking of Violet’s selflessness and caring that he had betrayed. “Because...I see things differently now.”

Archson scoffed. “It’s been one bloody day, Commander! What could’ve changed?” Cullen looked away, scarlet touching his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Archson gasped quietly. “No. Don’t tell me, you’ve been...dallying with the  _ Avvar barbarian woman _ ?”

“She’s the thane, actually,” Cullen corrected, feeling slighted on behalf of Violet--she was no barbarian. “And we’re not...dallying! We’ve discussed our differences is all.”

“In her bed, I’ll bet,” Archson muttered.

“What was that, soldier?” Cullen snapped.

“Oh, nothing, Commander,” she replied breezily.

“Right,” Cullen agreed. “So. The Avvar are throwing a feast in honor of us killing the bear. We’ll be expected to attend. I believe it to be tomorrow night.”

Archson threw her hands up. “Now we’re breaking bread with them? Unbelievable!”

“That’s enough, soldier,” Cullen commanded. “I will ensure that you and the others make it back to Skyhold in one piece. But for now, try not to seethe.”

As Cullen left the hut, Archson called after him, “I’ll have you know, I enjoy seething!”

***

Cullen found Violet back in her hut with the recovering soldiers, who were finally awake, although terribly disoriented and in much pain. Persephone has been in charge of healing any significant wounds while Violet assisted her. Now, the mage was gone from the room, and Violet was checking their vitals, talking to them softly in Common, her smile gentle and sweet. The three of them turned when the door opened, and Violet’s face brightened marginally.

“Cullen,” she greeted, straightening from her seat between the cot and the bed. “How’s your soldier?”

“Archson,” Cullen told her automatically. “She’s...okay. A bit nervous.”

Violet frowned a bit. “I’m sorry. I understand this can’t be an easy situation for her.”

Cullen looked past her to the two soldiers reclining. “Gibson, Maddock. How are you feeling?”

Maddock, sitting up on the cot, answered first. “Not too bad, Commander. Could be worse. The company’s not bad either.”

Cullen raised a brow, but smiled when he saw how Violet was grinning happily. “They’ll likely be up and about in no time,” Violet informed him.

“Thanks to you,” Gibson said from the bed, and his eyes were full of what could only be labeled as doe-eyed adoration. It set Cullen’s teeth on edge, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Violet smiled prettily. “Really, I didn’t do much. It was our apprentice healer, Persephone. She’s a marvelous healer.” Then she turned to Cullen. “They should be able to attend the feast tomorrow. Will Archson grace us with her presence?”

Cullen nodded. “Hopefully. But you understand that she and the others will have to return to Skyhold sooner rather than later. I’m sure that their patrol going missing has been noticed.”

Violet seemed to deflate at that, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “I know. Cullen? Can we talk? Alone?”

He nodded, following her out of the hut. They walked beside each other in silence for a few minutes, watching as the sun set on the horizon. There was a river along the side of the village, and they strolled along the bank, the soft burbling of the water calming and soothing.

“I have explained that my actions have been for the sake of the gods of my hold and for the safety of my hold,” Violet started. “They said that you would help heal the hold. As I’ve told you before, many of our people died in a plague. The hunt has been bad because of the she-bear--but, thanks to you, my hunters are out there now without the fear of her claws. That’s proof, if I’ve ever seen it, that this wasn’t just coincidence.”

Their eyes met and Cullen saw how nervous Violet was under the mask of the Fearless Thane. “I’m not opposed to helping your people, Violet. I’d enjoy helping out, actually.”

Violet heaved a breath. “Well, thank you, but I’m worried, you see. About  _ your _ people. Your Inquisition. Will they see this patrol gone missing as  _ our _ doing--will they see it as an act of aggression on top of our...kidnapping you? Do you think they’ll launch an assault? Korth’s fucking--I don’t know what to do, Cullen. This is my first time having to deal with Lowlanders!”

Cullen reached for her, his hands resting on her shoulders and turning her to face him. “You’ll be fine, Violet. So will your people. I won’t let anybody--mine or yours--hurt you.”

Violet met Cullen’s eyes, surprise in her green irises. “Cullen…” she murmured, looking touched. “That’s sweet. It’s just--by the Lady, I just feel like everything that happens is a test, and everyone in the hold is  _ watching _ for me to slip-up. Is it because I’m so young, do you think? Or because I don’t  _ look _ like a warrior? I’m not big and brawny like the others. I  _ know _ that there are many here, mostly the older members of the tribe, who think me unfit to lead. Wynne defends me, says the gods chose me--but it still scares me, okay?”

Cullen pulled Violet in for a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. She gave an  _ oof _ of surprise, but relaxed against his hard muscle, her arms slowly snaking around his waist. They stood like that for a few minutes, just breathing and holding each other, until Violet started wriggling away.

“Sorry, but we should probably...keep walking,” Violet said, but Cullen saw the blush on her cheeks, matching his own. He smiled, but followed her back to the center of the Hold.

The silence was nice, but Cullen found himself curious to know more of this woman who’d just opened up so much to him. “How did you become Thane, Violet?”

The Avvar woman looked up at him, raising a single dark eyebrow. “I told you, the gods appointed me. Some tribes, it travels from father to son--or to, you know, whatever child is oldest. But when the gods speak out for who they want as Thane--you don’t disobey. You want their favor, right, so you appoint whoever they guide the augur to. It’s...messed things up sometimes. There are many here who would see me fail, and they think I’m well on that path. But then you came, and you’re helping.”

She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes set ahead as she walked beside him. Cullen couldn’t help but trace her profile with his eyes, her slight features balance with a sort of noble touch to them. He wondered of the few other Avvar he’d met while in Dragonsblood Hold. Wynne, Persephone. He looked around now at the many men and women and children he didn’t know, wondered which of them respected their leader and which waited for her downfall.

“I want to get to know your people,” he blurted suddenly.

Violet looked at him, surprise evident on her features. “Oh. Well, you’ll have ample opportunity tomorrow during the feast. Everyone will want to give you their thanks. I won’t push you to dance, but you’ll no doubt get offers.” Violet’s lips curved into a teasing smirk at this, Cullen’s eyes widening.

“D-dance?” he sputtered. Violet nodded. He scoffed. “I don’t dance.”

Violet shrugged, though a mischievous glint touched her emerald eyes. “You have no obligation to. Do not feel pressured by propositions, either. You’ll get many of those until--” She broke off and coughed slightly to clear her throat. “I mean, that is, if we don’t couple, you’re fair game to anyone within the Hold, even if I am Thane.”

Scarlet flooded Cullen’s cheeks. “Ah. I see. Right. Well, I will not be...accepting of those, those  _ propositions _ .” He couldn’t tell Violet’s reaction to that. Did it bother her? Why did he care? “Though your celebrations do sound interesting. Is there music?”

Violet nodded. “Yes. Drums, mostly. Shakers. And there’s plenty of food and drink for all. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I look forward to it,” Cullen said with a smile, and they continued back to his hut. He came up short, however, when he heard shouting from that direction, sharing a concerned and confused glance with Violet. Together, they hurried forward, Violet already palming her daggers.

“Stay the fuck away from me, filthy savage!” a familiar voice shouted angrily. Violet and Cullen shouldered their way through a thin crowd that had started to gather, pushing to see Scout Archson with her dagger to the throat of one of the denizens of Dragonsblood Hold, who was holding her up by her collar.

“Insult our Thane again, Lowlander scum,” the man growled, his bronze face twisted in outrage. “You won’t live long enough to get the words out.”

“Murtagh!” Violet thundered as she approached the two, sheathing her dagger. Cullen leveled a venomous glare at Archson, who abashedly lowered her eyes when the Avvar hunter dropped her hastily. “What is the meaning of this?”

“This--this Lowlander insulted you, Thane,” Murtagh said angrily, gesturing at the Inquisition scout, who rolled her eyes. “I was defending your honor!”

“I am not a maiden in need of defending,” Violet snapped. Murtagh opened his mouth but Violet held up a hand to silence him. “Enough.” She glowered at the people still dawdling. “Return to your duties.”

The remainders scattered and Cullen rounded on Archson, grabbing her by the arm and leading her into the hut. Violet did not follow them, knowing the hostility that Archson openly displayed. She did not want to antagonize her further.

“What you did was unacceptable,” Violet told Murtagh in a low but dangerous tone. “I will not stand for a repeat of this. Archson is our guest.”

“She raked your name through the mud,” Murtagh defended, taking a step closer, towering over Violet like his father did. Violet squared her shoulders against her childhood friend.

“My name’s been through a lot,” she hissed. “I can take it.”

“It’s not right,” he insisted. “ _ I _ won’t stand for my leader--my  _ friend _ \--to be treated in such a way.”

“So you’d rather disobey my orders?” Violet countered. “Uproot my command, my authority? To  _ disrespect me _ ?”

Murtagh opened his mouth and shut it, seething silently. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he crossed his arms, looking down. “No. I would not mean to do that, Thane.”

“Then don’t,” Violet growled with finality. “If this happens again--from anyone--I  _ will _ set a harsh example. Do not test me, Murtagh.”

He nodded and pursed his lips, his breathing uneven with the anger still coursing in his veins.

“Return to your duties,” Violet said to him. He started to walk away. “Remember. Disobeying me out of respect for me is just as bad as disobeying me out of disrespect. I trust you, Murtagh, and your family. Please, don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

He walked away silently, bald head bowed, feet crunching the dirt beneath them. Violet stood alone, back straight as she looked out at her Hold, the discord she knew lingered in every path and building. She was barely holding this place together by the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you get the Hamilton reference, good for you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P'chow a quick update for y'all since I've been so awful about it the last month or so. Alsooo I'll be changing the rating to M for the next chapter.

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest as he scowled down at Archson, whose cheeks were flushed with anger and a bit of shame. She still kept her head up, unapologetic. Cullen kept his breathing even, despite his growing irritation. He had a headache coming on, the itch for lyrium gnawing at the back of his mind, but he shoved it back resolutely.

“I’m going to ask you  _ once _ , Archson,” he began, voice so calm it was scary. “What in the Maker’s name possessed you to--to provoke the Avvar?”

Archson’s nose was in the air as she replied haughtily. “I did naught but tell the truth. It is their fault if they cannot cope with that.”

Cullen rubbed his temples. “No, Archson, you antagonized them! Have you no foresight? Do you only care for your own ideals? Have you learned  _ nothing _ from the Inquisition?”

This brought an angry flush to Archson’s cheeks. She sputtered for a minute, mouth opening and closing like a fish, until finally she found her voice. “When did you decide your allegiance lies with these  _ heathens _ rather than with  _ your people _ , the Inquisition?”

“It’s called peace, working together,” Cullen snapped. “We can’t afford to go around alienating whoever we please.”

“The Inquisition can do whatever it wants!” Archson argued. “We defeated Corypheus!”

“And that gives us the right to be tyrants?” Cullen scoffed. “There’s a reason you’re but a scout, Archson. I will not be giving Leliana a favorable report when I return.”

That caught Archson off guard. “You’re coming back?”

Cullen raised a brow. “Why would I not? I am still the commander, the people need me. I won’t abandon them, not with the Exalted Council on the horizon.”

Archson looked...tentatively mollified. She lowered her head slightly and scuffed her booted toe against the floor of dirt and rushes. “Well...that’s marginally better. Will they let you leave, though? I mean, their  _ Thane _ did take you, against your will.”

Cullen thought for but a moment. “I believe she will, if I were to ask now. I...we, we’ve settled our differences. I think I may still be able to help her and the tribe, from Skyhold.”

Archson narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t right. You do see that, right? They don’t believe in Andraste--or the Maker. They never stepped in to help with the Breach or the rifts or anything. How do you trust them?”

“You forget your place, scout,” Cullen ground out, his jaw working and his bad temper back. “Do you usually question your superiors this way? I really  _ should _ have a talk with Leliana about who she lets join.”

Archson paled visibly. “Apologies, Commander.”

“Spend the day in here, Archson,” Cullen replied stiffly. “Maybe when you’ve cooled down, you can come out.”

She snorted softly as Cullen opened the door, muttering under her breath, “Yes, Mother.”

He left, looking around for Violet, who was nowhere to be seen. He closed the door behind him and headed off toward Violet’s hut, hoping to find her there. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He entered tentatively, finding only the two Inquisition scouts laying on their cots. One of them--Gibson, the one who kept shooting Violet looks of total awe--was awake, and he saluted hastily from his prone position, but Cullen waved him off.

“No need for that now,” he assured the man. “Has the Thane been by recently?”

Gibson shook his head, a slight dreamy smile on his face. “No, she hasn’t. She’ll be back soon, yes?”

Cullen blinked at the starstruck man. “Well. Yes, probably. But she is the Thane: she’s a busy woman.”

“I’ll bet,” the scout sighed. “Commander--do you happen to know if she’s married?”

A stony look settled over Cullen’s features and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I do happen to know. She’s--already chosen someone according to their customs. As you were.” And with that, he headed back out with a curt closing of the door. He shook his head slightly. He wasn’t a fool; the scout was definitely infatuated with the woman who had been tending to him. But what bothered Cullen was the...the sense of jealousy that had risen in him. Violet was not his to be jealous over.

He blinked in the slowly darkening evening, heading to the roasting pits to see if Violet was there. It smelled divine, the food for the feast. He wandered around for a while, nodding to those who did not seem too hostile toward him. After all, it was  _ his _ soldier who nearly caused a fight. Leliana’s, technically, but still his responsibility here. Would anyone respond positively to him now?

He stopped when he saw Persephone--she seemed reticent around him, though now he saw her laughing freely with other mages. She had the same smile as her sister, bright and shining. Her eyes were the same, too. The major difference besides body type was hair: Persephone’s was long and brown with a reddish tint to it, kept back in a messy braid. Cullen realized that Violet’s eyebrows were the same color as her sister’s hair--so her hair color couldn’t be natural.

“Persephone,” Cullen greeted when he was close enough. He saw the woman’s face shift to one of cold indifference as she looked at him coolly, her friends peering at him with curiosity. “Er--good evening.”

“Lowlander,” one of the girls said, not aggressively or condescendingly. “Your hair looks soft.”

His hand instantly shot up to touch his curls, a blush on his cheeks. “Er--thanks. Um, Persephone, have you seen Violet recently?”

“Is it soft?” one of the others, a boy who had barely grown his first chin hairs, asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Can we touch it?” another asked.

“I--uh--” Cullen flushed as one of the girls reached forward and ran her fingers through his hair, a look of awe on her face.

“How is it so soft?” she asked as the other mages stepped closer to touch Cullen’s hair. He looked to Persephone for help, but she looked like she was barely containing her laughter, hand covering her mouth.

“Um--please, if you could...not…” Cullen tried to stop them, but they didn’t listen.

“Cullen!” a very welcomed voice called out.

“Thank the Maker,” Cullen sighed as the crowd stepped back, hastily bowing their heads to their Thane. “Violet, I was just looking for you.”

She gave him an amused look, lips quirked in a smirk. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to draw you away from your...fans.”

Cullen’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. “No--I mean, that’s not--can we go somewhere else?”

“Sure,” she agreed, the smirk widening wolfishly. She nodded to the others that were with Persephone, then led Cullen away. Her presence at his side kept any other curious Avvar from approaching him and asking about his hair. Was it really that soft?

“How is Archson?” Violet asked, her voice tight.

“She is...upset,” Cullen said carefully. “She wants to return to Skyhold. She doesn’t believe you’ll let her.”

“She may,” Violet said, worrying her lips. “But we must be careful and diplomatic in this. The Inquisition cannot think that we kidnapped them. I’ve consulted with Wynne and Finley on this, and they--they don’t have very agreeable suggestions. So I’m going to trust you on this, Cullen, and I’m going to ask that that trust not be broken  _ again _ . Do you think it wise for Archson to leave after the feast? The other soldiers are not yet healed enough to do so themselves.”

Cullen pondered this a moment as they walked slowly. “I think so. The sooner, the better, honestly. She’s very on edge here. Though I don’t think she’ll go without the other soldiers, or me.”

“You...don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Violet told him softly. He looked at her quickly, surprise on his features. She sighed. “There’s no point in keeping you here if you wish to not be here. It would not please the gods. I just...your people are so different. I thought...well, it doesn’t matter. I was wrong. You can go whenever you wish.”

This caught him off guard. “I’ll stay until the men are fit for travelling back to Skyhold,” he told her firmly. “Which may be a while.”

“No longer than a week,” Violet told him frankly. “Persephone has made great headway in her healing--she’s found a whole bush of royal elfroot. Undoubtedly, the gods are pleased with your presence and have blessed us. But--don’t let me sway your judgment. The choice is yours.”

“I’ll think on it,” Cullen assured her. He looked at her and then out at the Hold. The sun had set and dusk was settling in. “I’m going to retire for the evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Violet nodded, touching his arm briefly. Then she smirked. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing the way the Avvar celebrate their victors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feast and celebration is the next chapter!! I'm looking forward to it alright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bad person for not updating. But I was revising my plot b/c I wasn't satisfied with it and now it's sort of all over the place and has taken on a life of its own. Hopefully it will not suck?????

Cullen could feel the drum beat under his skin, reverberating in his skull, his chest, his stomach. Guttural chanting by the musicians filled the air with a wild vibe. In the wide, open area of the Hold, people danced with abandon, bodies undulating and pressing closer together with each strike against the skin of the drums. Cullen was surprised by the...lack of clothing: women walked around with their chests bared, men wore but trousers with furs about their waists. He averted his eyes as much as he could without appearing offensive, leading Archson through the tables laden with food to arrive at the Thane’s throne.

Violet sat before the Hold, wearing leather trousers and a fur mantle that hung down to cover her breasts. Kohl rimmed her emerald eyes, which were alight with celebration and mirth. Her cheeks were flushed pink with merriment, no doubt aided by the mug of ale in her right hand. A young boy stood beside her with a tray of food, keeping his eyes trained carefully on his own hands.

When her eyes landed on him and Archson, she stood up with a smile, hailing them. “Come!” she beckoned, and Cullen kept his eyes fixed on her face. There was an ornate chair beside Violet’s, and she gestured for Cullen to sit as another person appeared with a tray laden with foods. A mug was filled with spiced wine and thrust into Cullen’s hand, and he sat down uncertainly as the tempo of the music picked up, joined in with a tambourine.

Violet leaned over to converse with Cullen, and his eyes betrayed him as he risked a glance downward to her exposed breasts.  _ Maker’s breath... _ He chastised himself inwardly and forced his eyes back to her face, too close to his own, as his face turned scarlet.

“This dance they’re doing right now,” she said, gesturing with her cup to the wild dancers before them. “It’s a retelling of how you defeated the she-bear, see? They dance around each other as if stalking prey.” She took a sip of her ale. “Just wait ‘til the killing blow.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows and looked back to the dancers, sipping his wine. There were several dancers doing their own dances, but a pair in the middle--the one Violet had pointed out--were reenacting, in a way, the event. They were two men, barely dressed, sweat gleaming on their bodies as they twirled around each other. Cullen nearly choked on his wine when they reached the ‘killing blow’. “They--they’re dry-humping!” he spluttered, blushing.

Violet grinned at his reaction and took another gulp of her ale, which was quickly refilled. “Aye. It happens, sometimes, during celebrations like these. It’s hard to control yourself with all the wine, the ale, the dancing, the sweat. They’ll move somewhere more private to continue  _ that _ \--” she gestured vaguely with her goblet, “--eventually.”

Cullen glanced over to Archson, who seemed just as horrified. Scandalized, even. She was clutching the armrests of her chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. She gulped and looked down at the food set before her, grimacing. Cullen reached over and patted her arm reassuringly, but she just looked at him with the same expression.

As the music shifted, Violet looked over at Cullen, a slight furrow to her brow. “Is the food not to your liking?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t touched a morsel.

“No, it’s--fine,” he said hastily with an apologetic smile. He picked up a bit of roasted meat with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. “See? Delicious.”

Violet smiled softly at him and reached over to wipe away a bit of juice from the meat that had dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Cullen swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Do you want to dance?” Violet asked. “Like I said yesterday, you don’t  _ have _ to--though it’s a lot of fun.”

“I--don’t dance,” he stammered uneasily. Violet raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not that I can’t, though I doubt you and your people would know of the dances I do. But, ah, I’ll sit this one out, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Violet answered as she stood up. “And I hope you don’t mind if I join the dancing?”

He shook his head. “I’ve no authority over you.”

She smiled back at him and shrugged off her mantle, handing it to him for safe-keeping before turning away and joining the dancers. Cullen gaped for a few moments, staring from her to the furry mantle and cursing under his breath at the sudden hardness in his trousers that he had been subduing since he’d arrived at the feast. He set the mantle over the rather obvious tenting of his trousers, hoping no one would look too closely at him. He heard Archson scoff in disbelief, folding her arms against her chest. Cullen chose not to focus on her, but rather on the Thane as she slipped in among the dancers seamlessly.

No one seemed to make any distinction between the Thane and any other member of the Hold, not here during the festivities. She danced with anyone who approached her, spinning and stomping and twisting. Cullen felt a knife of jealousy stab him as one of the men approached Violet, and then it twisted as she accepted his offer to dance. The two barbarians pressed together and whirled, and Cullen felt a growl building deep in his throat as he watched them--Maker, he couldn’t help but watch.

Cullen vaguely noticed a few people, men and women both, approach him, but he couldn’t recall what they’d said to him. Had they asked him to dance? For his opinion on the foods? He didn’t know. He’d waved them all away as he observed Violet dancing with her current partner.

“Commander, are you okay?” Archson asked, yanking him back to the present. “You look…” She trailed off as she mimicked his expression, one of undeniable annoyance, even a little animosity.

“Fine, Archson,” he replied with a huff and an effort to school his features into a more neutral expression. “Just...perturbed.”

“By this display?” she asked, grimacing. “I can’t believe their people do this. Such blatantly... _ sexual _ things, in front of everyone. There’s a reason they didn’t help the Inquisition defeat Corypheus, you know. They’re  _ heathens _ .”

Cullen sighed at her remarks. “Enough, Archson. If possible, we will attempt to broker peace with Hold Dragonsblood. I will not tolerate any...any sabotaging or dissent on this matter. Understood?”

Archson reluctantly agreed, looking glum. She tried not to look out at the dancers, fixing her gaze on her boots. Cullen glanced back to the dancers, flushing when he saw Violet break away from them and turn back to her lowlander guests. His eyes widened slightly as he took in her body. She was coated in a sheen of sweat, her pale hair a mess and her eyeliner smudged. She was still half-naked, her breasts uncovered, and there was a bruise on her shoulder like someone had tried to take a bite of her. The idea outraged Cullen--the woman was their leader, their Thane, and they treated her thus?

Her grin made Cullen’s eyes soften as she approached him, and he quickly averted his eyes, despite thinking that that smile could light up even the darkest nights. She dropped down into her throne, still panting, looking exhilarated. One of the serving boys handed her a chalice of spiced wine and she gulped it greedily to quench her thirst, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, that was so much fun!” she declared breathily, turning to Cullen, who was still trying very hard not to look directly at her face or her chest.

He chanced a glimpse of her, and was a little taken aback to see her leaning so closely to him over the side of her chair. The first thing he noticed was that her lips were red and swollen. The second was that her pupils were wide with adrenaline and energy, nearly blocking out the green. The third was a thought of his own: he had never craved a woman so hard in his entire life, and never had he felt more distraught. Lena’s image appeared in his mind, and he wondered how he could so easily betray her?

Cullen drew back, adding distance between him and the tantalizing Avvar. Violet cocked her head to the side, a question on her face. “Have I offended you?” she asked simply. Then, after a moment, her eyes widened. “Oh! Gods, is this because of the naked thing?” She gestured to her chest. At Cullen’s flustered response of half-formed words, she laughed heartily. “Oh, you lowlanders,” she said, not unkindly. Almost...affectionately.

Cullen remembered the scarf in his lap concealing his erection. He gulped and handed it to Violet uncertainly. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but took the scarf anyway, not putting it on yet. Suddenly, her expression morphed into one of concern, worry.

“Are you really not enjoying yourself?” Violet asked worriedly, in an undertone. “I thought...maybe you’d dance with someone--not to put pressure on the  _ dancing _ , per se, but that you’d see someone you...liked enough, to dance with.” She bit her lip. “I noticed many people did proposition you.” Then she smacked her forehead. “Of course! Your woman! The Inquisitor...oh, Cullen, I’m sorry. By the Lady, if I’d remembered, I wouldn’t have left to go dance! Nobody would have approached you if I’d stayed--”

“Violet,” Cullen tried interrupting.

“I’ve put you in a most awkward position, haven’t I?” she lamented, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Shit. I’m sorry--”

“ _ Violet _ ,” Cullen said more forcefully, truly drawing her attention now. She focused back on him, looking rather put-out and upset. Cullen felt a pang of sadness at being the cause of her lack of cheer. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She cocked a brow uncertainly. “But I have. I just--Korth’s prick, I am just so sorry. This whole situation.” She gestured widely as a mug of ale was handed to her by one of the serving boys. Cullen watched as she chugged it at an alarming speed.

“Violet, there’s no reason to be upset,” Cullen insisted. He licked his lips as he watched her face assume an expression of melancholy. “Here--come on, dance with me.”

Violet looked up at him in surprise, frowning as he offered her his hand. “Are you sure?” she asked, taking it tentatively.

He rose to his feet. “Positive. Though I’m afraid I don’t know any Avvar dances.”

“That’s alright,” Violet said, twining her fingers with his as she stood. “It’s easy to pick up. There aren’t any...specific moves. You just let the beating of the drums carry you.” She led Cullen into the center, turning to look at him, the firelight casting spiraling shadows over her pale face. He felt apprehensive as Violet let go of his hand and started to really dance. Cullen tried to mimic her, mirroring her moves, watching her with rapt attention. Other dancers jostled them, and more than one of them eyed Cullen openly as Violet kept her own eyes trained on him.

Cullen gasped as Violet was shoved against him by a particularly rowdy dancer. He caught her, painfully aware of her breasts and the straining in his trousers that she had undoubtedly notice. Her eyes were smoldering when they met Cullen’s. She straightened to her feet but didn’t step away, a challenge in her eyes.

Cullen took a tentative step toward the Thane, arms loose by his sides, uncertain. It was all the invitation Violet needed before pressing herself close to Cullen, her bare chest brushing his clothed one. They started walking in a circle around each other, like prey being stalked by a hunter--but which was the hunter and which was the hunted? Cullen couldn’t tell, especially not with his head swimming with the most impure, unchaste thoughts that had been in his mind since Kinloch.

“Do you remember the energy, the adrenaline, of killing the she-bear?” Violet asked, her voice husky as she moved so she was pressed flush with Cullen. “The heat of it?”

Cullen growled, remembering the dance celebrating his accomplishment from earlier. “I do.”

“Do you feel that heat in you now?” she asked, and at his nod, she reached down boldly and cupped him through his trousers. He gasped briefly, pupils blowing wide with lust. Violet leaned in close to him, her lips brushing tantalizingly against his earlobe. “Let the drums carry you.”

He was on her in a flash, his lips pressing fervently to hers, his hands gripping her hips as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She licked his lips expectantly and gave a tiny roll of her hips against his when he opened his mouth. She tasted like ale, wine, and something heady that made his head spin as he grinded himself against her, squeezing her bottom appreciatively.

Her moan was swallowed by Cullen, and the one after that. He wanted to rip the rest of her clothing off and take her right there on the dirt floor in front of the entire Hold. But he knew better. He broke the kiss and leaned closer, biting her earlobe gently before whispering, “The drums are telling me to bring you back to my hut and fuck you senseless all night long.”

Violet whined at that, rolling her lips against the erection tenting his trousers. She nodded emphatically as he took her hand and led her away from the celebrations, a few whistles following them.

In the secluded darkness of the village, they could still hear the drums, but they were more muted. Violet was pressing kisses against his shoulder, the strip of skin visible beneath the back of his collar. Cullen’s hand tightened over hers, even as the spell that the drums seemed to cast over him started to disappear. The  _ urgency _ of the situation that had made him so daringly talk to the Thane in such a way seemed to dissipate. But the desire in his belly, the need to have Violet squirming under him, the craving to have her moaning his name so that everyone in the Hold could hear--those things did not go away even as he forced open the door to his hut.

Violet stumbled in after him, kicking the door shut and immediately latching back on to Cullen’s lips with her own. She pushed him against the wall, carding her fingers through his hair and swiping her tongue over his lips once more. He crushed her to him as he opened for her, their breaths panting and sharp, their hands roaming and curious.

Violet started with the strings at Cullen’s collar, untying them and tugging his shirt open. They broke away for just a moment as Violet lifted his shirt up over his head and tossed it away, skimming her fingers over the taut muscle of his chest, leaning down to bite his shoulder gently. He groaned and she scraped her nails over his chest, through the fine blond curls covering his body, all the while grinding her core against him.

He walked her backwards to the bed, pinning her beneath him. She squirmed out of her trousers and furs and dumped them on the floor before sliding her hand between them and deftly undoing the laces of his trousers. She slid her hand over his throbbing cock, making him hiss in pleasure. Violet shoved his trousers away and dragged Cullen back down for a kiss even as she fondled him.

“Are you okay with this?” Violet asked, moaning as his hand cupped her breast.

Cullen groaned, brow furrowing as his elven lover’s face flashed in his mind. Oh, by the blood of Andraste, what would she say? He could see the betrayal on her face, the hurt in her eyes. He wrenched away from Violet, warring with the attraction and affection he felt for the Avvar woman. He turned his face away, hands fisting in the furs beneath them. Violet dropped her hands from his skin, letting cool air flow between their heated bodies.

“She must really mean a lot to you,” Violet murmured, slipping between his arms and off the bed. “I do not want to come between you.”

“Violet…” His voice was soft, barely a murmur. “I want you. But…”

“I understand,” Violet murmured softly, brushing her fingertips lightly against his shoulder. “I feel as though...I am to blame for this. I don’t want your lover to be hurt.”

“Maker’s breath, Violet, as selfish as I sound, I want you, too,” Cullen pleaded, sitting up and staring at her desperately as she grabbed a fur and wrapped it around herself.

Violet nodded sadly as she pulled on her leather trousers. Maybe it was the reflection of the firelight, but her eyes seemed to shine wetly. She turned away from the hearth and padded to the door, sliding out with a murmured, “Goodnight.”

Cullen fell backwards onto the bed, digging the heel of his hands into his eyes. Why did Violet let him get this far? She knew he had a lover, a dedicated relationship. She knew he had everything to lose by sleeping with her! Yet she still led him on, still goaded him and coerced him. Was it an act, earlier, when she feigned innocence at having forgotten Lena? Was it an act that she just wanted him to be happy?

He scoffed and rolled fully onto the bed, scowling into the semidarkness. She was an uncivilized brute. What did a barbarian know of love?


End file.
